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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184814">Part 19: Emmett</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36'>oiuytrewq36</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Straight to Number One [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queer as Folk (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:20:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I don’t tell anyone else until two weeks before I leave for two reasons: one, I get teary-eyed enough on my own while packing without everyone else choking up every time they see me, and two, I don’t want Teddy to think I’m moving because of him, even though I sort of am.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Straight to Number One [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Part 19: Emmett</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I tell Brian and Justin first. Not on purpose, I don’t plan it or anything, but it occurs to me that I can talk to them while I’m over at their place after finishing up with a (lovely, if I do say so myself) hippie christening ceremony thing at a Unitarian Universalist church in Queens.</p><p>Justin’s just asked me a question about my latest Pittsburgh client when I realize that I want to tell someone, and I’d better do it now before I spill to the wrong person.</p><p>“Actually, I’m moving to Westfield.”</p><p>Justin and Brian look at each other, have some kind of nonverbal exchange I don’t understand, and turn back to me.</p><p>“Westfield ... New Jersey?” Justin asks.</p><p>I nod. “I have plenty of big clients in New York now, and I found this <em>adorable</em> little bungalow with a modern kitchen that’ll be perfect for the setup work I need to do. And we’ll practically be neighbors!”</p><p>Brian, looking surprisingly engaged considering the conversation isn’t about him or sex, says, “You bought a house?”</p><p>“Does Debbie know?” Justin adds.</p><p>“The sale hasn’t closed yet, but it will in a week or so. I, um, haven’t told anyone yet. Other than you two, obviously.”</p><p>They stare at me. Finally, Justin asks, “Is everything okay?”</p><p>I smile. “More than okay, actually. I feel better about this than I have about anything for a long time.”</p><p>Brian holds up his glass. “Well, what do you know, one more makes it out of the Pitts. I’ll drink to that.”</p><p>***</p><p>I don’t tell anyone else until two weeks before I leave for two reasons: one, I get teary-eyed enough on my own while packing without everyone else choking up every time they see me, and two, I don’t want Teddy to think I’m moving because of him, even though I sort of am.</p><p>It’s not that I don’t want to see him, or Blake, or Debbie, or any of the others - I love my little Pittsburgh family, and if I’m being honest it scares the shit out of me to leave - but I realized a year ago that I need a fresh start. Ted’s addiction and the end of our relationship nearly broke me. I need to get away from the bad memories that Pittsburgh holds if I ever want to find that kind of life for myself, and as much as I try not to be jealous of what Ted has, it hasn’t been easy to see him finding exactly what he’s always wanted while I stay stuck where I was when we broke up.</p><p>Debbie cries when I tell her, which isn’t a surprise, but it makes me sad anyway. Then Carl gets all sniffly, which makes <em>me</em> cry, and we end up in a kind of big messy group hug that finishes with promises to call each other all the time (especially when there’s a Hallmark movie marathon on TV, of course).</p><p>Ben and Michael seem sad to see me go, but more in the way that you’re vaguely melancholy when a longtime neighbor moves away than anything else. I don’t think I’d realized until right at the moment I told them I was leaving how far we’d drifted apart, which is a strange feeling to have, and not one that particularly helps my declining mood.</p><p>Teddy is the hardest to tell, of course. We go for coffee, just the two of us, and sit on a bench in the park and cry, arms around each other, mourning something, I’m not sure what. The life we could have had, I guess. The next day, though, Ted comes by to give me a Verdi CD and asks when the housewarming will be, and things start to feel a little better.</p><p>On moving day, Justin and Brian come to help me set up the house (I’m tempted to ask Justin what exchange of sexual favors was required for Brian to tag along, but decide against it) along with Frances, who turns out to have excellent closet-organizing skills. If not for the obvious, I’d marry that girl.</p><p>I make them all dinner as a thank-you when we’re done. Frances heads back to the city in the early evening, and then Brian and Justin take me to their favorite club, a huge, pulsing, glittering place that makes Babylon look like a Republican funeral. The boys understand why I needed to do this, I think - well, Justin does, anyway. I doubt Brian gives much of a shit, which is also nice, in its own weird way.</p><p>By the time we leave, it’s four a.m., there are no cabs in the street, and we’re all far too wasted for our respective ages, so I end up spending my first night of my New York life in Brian and Justin’s guest room, listening to the noise of the city through the window and to what sounds like some astonishingly good sex, considering their combined intoxication level, through the bedroom wall.</p><p>The next morning, I feel surprisingly okay, so instead of stumbling around the house in search of ibuprofen, I lie in bed, the city sounds still filtering in from the street outside, think about what’s waiting for me at my new home, and smile.</p>
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